


if it’s all the same to you

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Healing, M/M, Minor Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Post-Canon, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Post-Movie(s), Young Gellert Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: A small black spot in the corner of his eye turns out not to be an injury sustained from Grindelwald, but rather a Will-o’-the-Wisp tempting Percival Graves away from the straight and narrow.





	1. The other Scamander

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ingu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a black spot in the corner of his vision and Percival Graves thinks he's finally gone mad.

It started off as a smudge in the corner of his eye fifteen days after being discharged from the healing house, twenty five days after he was rescued from a charmed chamber in his shaving kit, and sixty five days after Gellert Grindelwald captured him and stole his identity.

No matter how much he blinked, how much he rubbed his eyes, the dark smudge remained. There were some things, the healers told him, that even magic couldn’t fix and for that only time would suffice.

So Graves decided to wait it out, just like the injury to his wand arm that now sported an impressive lightning scar all the way up to the shoulder and tingled and ached of its own accord. Time would fix it, the healers had soothed.

Time did not fix the smudge, no in fact time seemed to make it…worse. What started off as a dark spot in his vision manifested into something physical, something _real_  and instead of clear vision Percival Graves found himself with a…will-o’-the-wisp. 

It was no bigger than the smoke off a candleflame, and though it was black as night it wasn’t opaque, wasn’t solid. It seemed wary of him, darting away whenever Graves turned to face it. With the amassing pity he received from MACUSA in general, he was loathe to approach the healers about it lest they deem him unfit for work and he find himself involuntarily admitted to the healing house once more.

No, like his injuries he would take this in stride and power on.  

* * *

There was a new bakery run by a No-Maj and frequented by the Goldstein sisters (more by the younger than the older Goldstein), where Graves found himself a regular patron. The man was a portly, jolly fellow who cheerfully greeted his customers (magical and non magical alike) and sold the most wondrous pastries.

It soon became part of his morning weekday routine - a pastry from the bakery, a paper from the newstand, and a coffee at his desk. Something about the routine was soothing, was therapeutic and entirely under his own control. Nothing like the infrequent meals Gellert fed him, or the neat bland meals placed before him by the Infirmary staff.

Weekends meant Graves prepared the coffee himself, rather than receiving one from the younger Ms Goldstein, but the pastry and the paper remained. 

On a particularly uneventful, chilly Sunday morning Graves noticed his resident will-o’-the-wisp floating cautiously at the other end of the dining table.

“Good morning.” He nodded in greeting, resigning himself to the revelation he could indeed have gone mad. The wisp startled, darting out of sight beneath the table. “There’s no need for that, I’m of no danger to you.”

Truly, for Graves didn’t know if it was simply a figment of his imagination, the manifestation of his broken mind.

The wisp hesitantly floated back into view.

“I’m Percival Graves, though perhaps you know that already.” The wisp remained, hovering a little higher until it was level with is gaze. “Are you hungry? Do you eat?”

He pushed the saucer holding the half eaten chocolate _rugelach_ towards it. The wisp ever so slowly floated towards it, like an animal wary of a trap. Graves marvelled at its smoky, wispy body, the way it glided through the air and flickered like a flame. It settled over the corner of the pastry and the pastry…began to disappear.

Graves laughed. It was a rough, sudden bark of a sound as if someone had put a shot of gigglewater into his coffee. The wisp darted under the table, yet Graves found himself unable to stop. The effort made his ribs ache but oh it felt divine, like lightning in his veins jolting him back to life.

“So you _do_  eat.” He smiled, poking his head under the table to address the shivering little wisp. “Come on, come have some more. You’ve been with me for a while haven’t you? This must be your first meal, how rude of me.”

The wisp paused before floating back up and over to the plate. Graves observed it couldn’t phase through solid objects, having to navigate around them rather than through. He didn’t know what to do with such information, but he tucked it away for later. Pushing the saucer towards it once more, he made an encouraging gesture, and a moment later the edge of the pastry began to disappear. 

He felt himself chuckling at the sight, the sheer absurdity of it all a source of mirth and amusement. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light inside.

“Do you drink coffee?” Graves asked it, causing it to pause from the pastry. “Here, try some.” 

Coaxing it towards his mug, he watched as the wisp lowered itself close enough to touch the surface of the hot dark liquid. It made contact, the liquid rippling softly and decreasing in volume.

Pastries and coffee- it ate pastries and drank coffee, and surely that meant it was real and not a figment of his broken mind?

“I’m going to call you Willow.” 

* * *

Four days later, on an uneventful Thursday when the awkwardness blanketing his colleagues had finally begun to thaw, the Director of Magical Security received an international visitor.

The international visitor was on official business with MACUSA, all the way from the Ministry of Magic. This was MACUSA’s second brush with the British, and far too soon according to Seraphina- especially when the British visitor was another Scamander.

This Scamander was the older of the pair of brothers, the war hero, the head of the Ministry of Defence and Percival’s dearest, most enduring friend. Once upon a time they had been more than that, but that was a tale for no one else’s ears. 

Officially, The Right Honourable Theseus Scamander had been dispatched to smooth over tensions, to collaborate with MACUSA on the best methods to transfer Gellert Grindelwald upon his extradition to Germany, how best to deal with his ilk in order to protect the magical community, and to accept a commendation on behalf of his brother who was, yet again, away pursuing magical creatures.

Unofficially, Theseus had dispatched himself to see if his friend was alright.

And it was for that very reason he pulled Percival into his arms at ten past eleven in the morning, in the safety of the Director’s office, and embraced him as tightly as he could manage until the other man grunted in discomfort.

“Thes you’re strangling me.”

“Oh Merlin, when I received that owl from MACUSA I thought I’d lost the both of you.” He murmured into the crook of his neck. “Perce I thought, I honestly thought I’d lost the both of you to that madman.”

“But you didn’t.” Graves corrected, and Theseus loosened his grip enough so they could see eye to eye. “And it was your brother who noticed it was Grindelwald and not me.”

A flash of anger marred Theseus’ face and he scowled. “No one noticed the entire time? How can anyone be so daft?!”

“They don’t know me like you do, Thes.” Graves soothed, moving a hand to cup his face. “I suppose your wild tales of me to Newt must have stuck. He was the only one who noticed something was off.”

Things were different now, things weren’t the way they were when they were Perce and Thes in their Ilvermorny and Hogwarts days. They weren’t foolish schoolboys on exchange for a semester at each other’s schools, sneaking kisses under trees. They weren’t hotblooded soldiers fighting in a war that wasn’t theirs but was theirs at the same time. Not anymore, anyway. Now they were older, greyer and just a touch wiser, with their own responsibilities and duties to bear.

But the affection, oh that was still there, still plain to see in the way Theseus never let him go, in the way Percival rested his brow against his shoulder. And they would have remained that way for longer if Theseus hadn’t suddenly yanked Graves behind him and brandished his wand.

“Merlin’s beard what on earth is that?!” A black wisp hovered with uncertainty, shivering under the intensity of Theseus’ glare. “Is that one of Newt’s?!”

“I’m not entirely sure?” Graves admitted, lowering his friend’s wand away from the trembling wisp. “I’ve named it Willow.”

“…Like a will-o’-the-wisp?” 

“I believe so, yes.”

There was a period of silence, more out of confusion than awkwardness before Theseus relaxed his guard.

“Does Phina know you’re harbouring one of Newt’s creatures?” There was a familiar spark of mischief in his light eyes. “I do recall seeing a document on my desk signed by my brother stating all his creatures were back in his suitcase never to set foot on American soil ever again.”

“Phina doesn’t know and if you tell her before I’m ready I’ll hex your shoes to the floor.” 

There was a pause before the two of them burst out laughing and oh, oh it felt wondrous to laugh and forget for just a moment that he hadn’t suffered a second Salem of his own.

“I don’t think I ever remember Newt talking about will o’ wisps before.” Theseus frowned, before trying to coax the creature over by beckoning with his fingers. It floated forward a little, before changing its mind and darting under the desk.

“It was in my house,” Graves explained as he opened up his suitcase and took out a wrapped sandwich, “and I assumed it was a spot in my vision caused by my injuries until it ate my pastry.”

“It eats?”

“Yes I bribe it with food regularly. Here, try it.” He handed half the sandwich to Theseus and his friend gave him an incredulous look for a moment before shrugging and caving in.

“Here Willow, want some?” Theseus crouched, holding out the food like an olive branch. Slowly, ever so slowly the wisp floated towards it until Theseus stood up and it was within arm’s reach of the sandwich.

It tentatively floated closer and closer until…until the corner of the sandwich started to disappear.

“Oh Merlin.” Theseus breathed, eyes wide in amazement. “Perce what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Nothing, I hope.” Graves shrugged. “It’s entirely harmless and seems to sustain itself on pastries, sandwiches and coffee.”

“Like you.” Theseus snorted, causing Graves to roll his eyes. Carefully, Theseus gingerly ran his fingers along Willow’s black smoky surface, smiling in delight when it wiggled at the touch. “It feels like something and nothing all at once. How marvellous. You want me to send an owl to Newt?”

“Yes. But an informal one.” Graves warned. “I don’t want MACUSA and the Ministry kicking down my door- I’ve only just had it replaced.”

“Perce is this a bad time to remind you it’s _your_  country with the ban on owning magical creatures?” Theseus laughed as the wisp misted over his fingers intent on devouring every last crumb. “Next thing we know you’ll be a wanted man just like my baby brother.”

“We dropped those charges immediately Thes. I didn’t make them.” Graves huffed and though the words sounded pointed, there was no malice behind them. He walked closer, standing at his side as Willow continued to drift over Theseus’ fingers in search of more food.

“It looks like an Obscurus.” Theseus said softly, turning his hand this way and that and smiling as the wisp followed the movement. “A miniature one.”

“Impossible.” Graves shook his head. “The Aurors killed him. The only other one is a remnant in your brother’s suitcase.”

“Him, Perce?”

“Credence Barebone. The Obscurial MACUSA destroyed.” The name felt heavy on his tongue, and not for the first time Graves felt his chest ache from something other than phantom pain. 

“Newt told me about him. Swore up and down on every hair of Merlin’s beard that he could’ve helped that young man.” Theseus sighed, cupping his palms and letting the wisp settle in a puddle inside the space. “Then again Newt says that about every creature he comes across.”

“We should’ve done better.” Graves spat, the anger and shame welling up behind his eyes. “We didn’t send a child to slaughter, we slaughtered him ourselves.”

“Not you, Perce.” He corrected, eyes soft as he slid his hand around Graves’ nape. “Not you.” 

The kiss was chaste, was comforting and mellow and didn’t promise anything they couldn’t uphold. When they parted, Theseus leaned their foreheads together and stayed there a moment, peering into his dark eyes as if combing through his soul. 

“Remember that, Percival Graves.”

Between them, Willow floated up and pressed itself against Graves’ lips as if offering him a kiss too. The gesture made both men laugh, dispelling any potential heaviness in the air. 

“Willow implores you too, Perce.” Theseus gave the creature a fond little tickle, laughing brightly when it shivered and darted away from his fingers. “Alright. I’m off to bother Phina. I don’t suppose I can bribe _her_  with pastries or sandwiches?”

“No.” Graves shook his head, holding out his hand for Willow to settle onto. “But she’s partial to Pinnock’s.”

* * *

 [[Theseus Scamander fancast](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/159472044135/cutiemcgraw)]

(find me on [tumblr](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic timeline:  
> 31st October 1926 - Graves attacked by Grindelwald  
> 7th December 1926 - Grindelwald revealed and detained  
> 10th December 1926 - Graves found  
> 20th December 1926 - Graves discharged from St Caia's House of Healing  
> 4th of January 1927 - A spot of black in Graves' vision  
> 13th of January 1927 - Theseus Scamander arrives in New York


	2. What dreams may come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Gellert Grindelwald cannot force out of his prisoner through the use of Veritaserum, he will attempt to coax out with an offer of friendship. After all, one catches more flies with honey than vinegar.

There was something elegant about drowning a person. It was like watching a swan, beautiful and graceful on the surface but beneath its legs were paddling furiously to allow it such elegant movement. 

Or so Gellert had told him as such, gesturing with a flick of his wand like shooing away a fly. The dark wizard had stared down at him with such a bemused smile, where Percival paddled desperately to stay afloat in the now magicked water chamber of his silver shaving kit.

“Down you go, Director. Can’t have you squawking about now can we?” Reaching in, Gellert had grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him under, withdrawing a moment later to freeze the top of the water solid.

“Don’t you worry, Percival,” Gellert tutted, “you can’t die unless I let you.”

And he was right.

No matter how much water Percival thought he swallowed, his stomach didn’t bloat with it, his lungs didn’t burst from it. But his mind, oh his mind, it thought he was drowning and so he fought, he fought long and hard against the icy water suffocating him. But Death never came.

Grindelwald kept him permanently exhausted. It was much neater, he’d said, far neater than nasty spells getting blood all over his waxed floorboards and infinitely less work. 

Not that the wizard spared him from ‘nasty spells’ altogether, no the long mess of white scar tissue up his wand arm testified otherwise. Because Percival still fought him, despite knowing he couldn’t win, he couldn’t live with himself if he just gave up. 

The first time Grindelwald had tentatively brought him out of his icy prison, Graves had managed a quick _Sectumsempra_  to catch the man off guard and slice him across the arm.

Grindelwald had him bound a moment later, and returned the favour tenfold until Graves was a screaming mess of open cuts and his floorboards ran red. 

 _Back under the ice with you, until you’ve remembered your manners._ He’d scolded him as though he’d been an errant child disobeying his parents. The water turned pink almost immediately, his blood like hazy cotton candy wisping from his broken body .

The next time Grindelwald had let him surface, Graves’ teeth were chattering too hard for him to even think the curses let alone push enough magic into manifesting them.

Gellert had preened then, waving his wand with one hand and gesturing with the other. His stolen facade melted away as a banquet blossomed on the dining table and Graves found himself clothed and seated.

“We’re going to have a little chat over roast and red wine, like the pair of gentlemen we are.” He declared with an indulgent nod. Neat slices of beef arranged themselves onto their plates as potatoes and carrots unfurled themselves into fancy little flowers. Breadrolls steamed in a basket within reach as a bottle of wine poured him a generous glass.

Graves felt his stomach clench at the sight and scent of such a feast.

“You have quite the wrong impression of me, Director.” Gellert sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “I do not hate you- I am only disciplining you for your outbursts. This will be much easier on the both of us if only you just co-operate.”

If Grindelwald had expected an answer, he wasn’t going to receive one any time soon as Graves ate as fast as he could, cramming his mouth with food and downing the glass of wine without tasting a single drop properly.

“Percy Percy _Percy_.” The dark wizard sighed, snapping his fingers and magicking Graves upright and attentive in his chair. “Chew. Swallow. Sip. _Enjoy_ this food for Merlin’s sake.”

He sat bolt upright, frozen as Gellert ate at a leisurely pace. When the man’s plate was relatively cleared, Percival found himself able to move again. The wine bottle neatly poured him another glass, and he reached for it with as much control as he could muster.

“Better.” He nodded in approval. “Now tell me who is ‘T.S’?”

“Theseus Scamander.” The name flew out of his mouth before he could stop it, and it was with cold icy horror that he realised Grindelwald hadn’t touched his glass of wine.

“Theseus Scamander! I was wondering who’d gifted you this lovely shaving kit.” Gellert smiled with false warmth. “ _To take to my Graves- T.S.’_ What a charming play on words.”

Gritting his teeth, Percival tried his damned hardest to clear away the dull throb in his head, knowing the _Veritaserum_ was worming its way deeper and deeper inside. 

“He’s the current Minister for Defence isn’t he Percy?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a powerful connection isn’t it? The Director and his friendship with the Minister for Defence.” He grinned in a way that made Graves shiver. “If he’s friends with you then I reckon he’s more tolerable than that Fawley idiot. Imagine a man like _him_ in charge of the security of wizarding kind!”

His jaw ached from how tightly he tried to keep his mouth shut, and the effort made Gellert offer him one of his mocking smiles.

“Something you’d like to tell me, Percy? I’d like to get to know your friend before I meet him.” Crooking his fingers in a beckoning gesture, the glass of wine Graves had used flew into his grasp. Without breaking eye contact, Gellert took a long drink from it. “He’ll be happy to see me, won’t he?”

“Yes.” 

For a brief moment, Gellert frowned in thought. “Would he welcome me with open arms?”

“Y-” the dull ache grew as he fought the answers so easily bubbling up to the surface. “-yes.” _The serum_ , he thought numbly, _he took my drink with the serum_. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you’re so important to MACUSA but at the same time absolutely nobody.” The smile was back, devoid of any mirth any warmth. “Because Seraphina Picquery has blood relations I cannot fool and your blood relations are either dead or too far away to notice. Because _no one_ has noticed you’ve been replaced.”

“Why are you in America?”

“Because I want to destroy this stupid law, because I want us to take our rightful place front and center, not scurrying in the gutters like rats!” There was something feverish, something manic in his eyes. “Why do you protect them, Percival?”

“Because they need our protection. Because their lives are no less than ours.” 

“Who is Porpentina Goldstein?” 

“My brightest Auror.” Graves loathed himself, loathed the way his mouth moved without him telling it to, the way he spilled the truth so easily like water from a jug.

“Tell me about her.” Gellert gestured with a lazy wave of his hand as he sank leisurely against the chair. “Why are you so fond of her?” 

“She is headstrong and determined, able to lead and to follow in equal measure.” In his head he said a thousand apologies for every word that tumbled from his lips, begging for her unknowing forgiveness. “She was the youngest Auror I’ve ever promoted from junior rank and I hope she will one day succeed me.”

“Hm. That could be a problem. Would people miss her if I killed her?”

“Yes. Her sister would notice immediately.” 

“A shame. We’ll have to think of something clever, then.” A pause as Gellert sighed tiredly, massaging his temples. “I forgot how taxing this serum is on the body, it’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The honest, immediate answer made the dark wizard laugh heartily. Percival used the lapse in conversation to ask another question, not knowing when Gellert would tire of the sport and imprison him again. “When were you dosed with _Veritaserum_?”

“When I was under investigation at Durmstrang.” The words left his mouth involuntarily, and anger marred his face immediately after. “Now you listen-”

“Was that the first time?”

“No-”

“When was the first time?”

“Albus-”

“Albus Dumbledore? How do you know Albus Dumbledore?” Graves demanded and something dark, something full of rage and spite filled Gellert’s expression. 

“Yes Albus Dumbledore. I’ve known him since I was young my great-aunt was his neighbour and we were-” with great pain his cut off the last portion of his answer, clenching his hands into fists so tight his knuckles blanched. “We were-”

“Tell me!” Graves roared, and instead of an answer there was white hot pain. It took a few moments for him to register what had happened- he’d been flung back and slammed his head on the ground, his eyes dazed and dancing with spots as he stared up at the ceiling.

The next moment he was naked again, and Gellert was yelling at him, face overcome with anger as he held him underwater before withdrawing with a triumphant grin as the surface froze over.

Once more, he drowned.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Graves saw sunlight, Gellert had prepared breakfast for him and the New York Ghost on the table told him it was November.

“I was very upset with you, Percy.” Gellert sighed like a disappointed father as he waved some toast and coffee over to him. “But I think we can come to an understanding because you see, we’re not so different after all.”

“We are nothing alike.” The words lost their edge as Percival ate ravenously, only managing to glare at the dark wizard over the rim of his coffee mug.

“I have something to show you.” Grindelwald continued in his patient tone as he buttered his toast. “But first I need something from you.”    

That was all the warning he was given before there was a wand digging into his temple and the awful, _awful_ feeling of someone rummaging through his head. 

“Get out! Get out!” He snarled, but still the prying continued, invasive and unwanted. “Stop it!”

And all at once, it did. There was a sudden stillness, as if time had paused and out of the corner of his eye he saw Grindelwald pull something thin and silver from his head.

“The brightest memories are the easiest to find, Percy.” A quizzical frown. “Why do you hide yours so fiercely?”

With a dramatic wave he cast the slip of silver shadow away and it exploded into a shower of stardust, little twinkling lights that swirled together to form ghostly figures. Their features sharpened, a little colour added until Graves could recognise two young boys, one with dark hair in Wampus cranberry and the other a redhead in Slytherin green.

“Don’t do this.” He held back the _please_  but it was there in his eyes as the mist manifested a backdrop of quaint little country houses and a small church. The twinkling shower of pinpoint lights turned into snowflakes, dusting the boys in powder white as they laughed.

“Godric’s Hollow.” Gellert whispered, something... _something_  there in his tone, in his expression as the boys playfully piffed snowballs at each other until the dark haired one tackled the redhead down into a burst of white. They laughed, the sound a faraway thing, as though they were just out of proper earshot.

They kissed, they kissed so clumsily and eagerly in a way only schoolkids could with clashing teeth and squished noses and nervous giggling. 

The scene wavered and the boys were young men in filthy uniforms huddled in a muddy trench, the colours ashen and mouldy. All around them were faceless soldiers, pressed tightly together murmuring prayers to anyone who was listening. 

A moment later, a battle raged around them and Theseus Scamander had teeth bared in a snarl as he fought with no grace at all, no heroic bravado like the tales boasted. Instead he fought like a pirate, all grand sweeping motions as though he wielded a cutlass in place of a wand; no finesse, no pause for thought, no quarter given as they advanced across the barren wasteland, and each inch of ground they covered considered a win.

The Gryffindor would say ‘I will lead my men to victory’, but the Slytherin said ‘I will keep my own alive’.

Theseus Scamander got them out alive, even if he had to cut his own arm and use blood magic considered too dark, too evil to use by others. 

The mist shifted into a tent battered by a deluge, and the two figures inside were tired and grimy and too exhausted for words so they kissed and kissed and fell asleep in a tangled heap of sweat and whispered promises.

They faded, and Percival felt winded as though all the fight had been snatched out of him.

“What happened, Percy? Why aren’t you together?”

“We both have a duty to our countries.” The words were like lead on his tongue. “We’re both doing what we think is right.”

“What you both think is right.” Grindelwald echoed and the _something_  in his tone, his expression, was sadness. An almost tangible sadness that hung in the air, something that ached like an old wound that didn’t heal quite right.

“This is what I want to show you, Percy.” He pushed the tip of his wand against his own temple and out slithered a silvery wisp.

Godric’s Hollow manifested before them again, but it was summer instead of winter and the trees were fat with leaves. A blond boy chatted avidly with a redhead, both of them too deep in conversation to notice the bemused expressions of passersby.

The mist swirled and the boys sat beneath a tree at the back of the church, soaking up the shade. The redhead wore half-moon spectacles perched on his thin nose, his smile sweet, his eyes bright. The blond one leaned in, tangling his hand in the other boy’s red hair and they kissed, they kissed so clumsily and eagerly in a way only schoolkids could with clashing teeth and squished noses and nervous giggling. 

The next moment the blond slept on his bed, until an owl tapped urgently on his window. The note it delivered made the boy smile, smile and laugh as he pressed the precious message to his chest. He fell asleep still smiling. 

There were four figures in a room, three boys and a frightened girl and rage, rage in the air and curses being shouted and deflected and the girl jerked back, a lifeless heap a heartbeat later. The redhead cried and the blond left.

“Albus.” Percival murmured numbly. “You were in love with Albus Dumbledore.”

“And we’re both doing what we think is right.” The dark wizard waved his hand through the mist and the memories faded. “Like I said, we’re not so different after all.”

“I will not be swayed by your attempts to make me pity you!” Graves spat, teeth bared in an ugly snarl the way Theseus would when threatened. “I will not bow down to you, I will not join your cause!”

Grindelwald’s face twisted with anger, insulted and enraged. With a whip-like movement he brought his wand down and Graves found himself stripped and submerged in icy waters once more.

“Then drown, Percival Graves! Drown in your own loneliness and misery!”

 

 

* * *

 

It ached, what Gellert Grindelwald had done to him, even though months had passed. Some nights when the temperature dropped it felt like Graves had been plunged in cold waters once again.

Some nights he felt like his skin was being prodded incessantly with a thousand needles until he wanted scream. Some nights he did.

Other nights he dreamt up shards of memories, like a flicker picture chopped and muddled and out of order. He saw snippets, and he snatched at them, ever elusive as they slipped out of his grasp.

He saw The New York Ghost on his desk, news of Gellert Grindelwald’s escape from Germany. He saw his unchanging, empty home devoid of company. He saw Porpentina Goldstein receiving her promotion, handing her the Auror’s badge personally. He saw the muddy, bloodied trenches and dull, sullen grey skies and he heard artillery shelling and soldiers screaming and Theseus Scamander with fire in his eyes and a snarl on his lips. He saw Seraphina standing in front of a mirror winding a colourful scarf over her hair, folding and pleating and scrunching until her hair was out of sight and she’s ready for the Winter Solstice Ball.

He saw a boy with deathly pallor and brutishly cropped dark hair and broken brown eyes. The boy looked at him so sadly, so desperately, the skin of his palm flayed open by a belt buckle and his mother’s tyranny. Tina’s unofficial ward, Credence Barebone, adopted into one of the bloodiest Scourer lineages and pitiful enough to her that she lost her rank to defend him. She had pleaded with him to watch over the boy, and her sheer stubbornness saw him at least linger by the church to see the boy for himself. Hunched shoulders, shivering in the cold, Credence had been passing out fliers when by chance he caught his gaze from across the street. Though the boy said nothing, in his eyes was a cry for help.

Percival hated those dreams the most, even more than the ones where Gellert pressed the heel of his boot to his cheek and crunched him underfoot like an insect. Because he had survived all those moments, but the boy had not survived his.

Funny, he thought, how he mourned a boy he never properly met.  

 

 

* * *

 

He dreamt of Grindelwald again that night, of another interrogation over a scrumptious feast carefully crafted to tempt him into feeling camaraderie with the man who had stolen his identity.

Gellert Grindelwald wore his own face, no borrowed visage as he gestured animatedly though Percival heard no words. When he looked down at his own plate, the feast changed to one of tall battered pots holding thin watery soup and the bread baskets held stale loaves instead of fresh dinner rolls.

Credence Barebone sat at the side of the table, between Gellert and himself. He looked at Graves, only at Graves, murmuring _please_ as he held out his bloodied palms.

The blood overflowed, dripped down, down onto the white tablecloth until the entire dining table was soaked with it. 

_Please please please Mr Graves-_

When he woke screaming, his faithful will-o’-the-wisp stared right at him.

“Oh Willow, Circe help me.” Percival groaned as the little wisp darted here and there, as if fussing over him. “When will this end, hm?”

With gritted teeth he laboured off the bed, fumbling for the cane propped up against a nearby chair and quirking his mouth in a small thankful smile when Willow pushed it within reach.

Admitting he needed help ranked high on the list of things he loathed to do, but at least Willow was good at keeping secrets. The nightmares, Graves decided, was something to be kept between just the two of them.

 

* * *

 

[[Gellert Grindelwald fancast](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/158517842760/the-way-im-feeling-mads-mikkelsen-for-flaunt)]

(find me on [tumblr](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic timeline:  
> 31st October 1926 - Graves attacked by Grindelwald  
> 7th December 1926 - Grindelwald revealed and detained  
> 10th December 1926 - Graves found  
> 20th December 1926 - Graves discharged from St Caia's House of Healing  
> 4th of January 1927 - A spot of black in Graves' vision  
> 13th of January 1927 - Theseus Scamander arrives in New York


	3. The other Goldstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie Goldstein is privy to a thousand secrets a day, but the most interesting one is about a small black spot in the corner of Minister Scamander’s eye.

Reading minds was nothing like reading books; Legilimency was more like standing in a crowded room with double the voices. It was akin to tumbling down the rabbit hole and catching glances at objects here and there as one hurtled downward. Thoughts were rarely linear, hardly ever like a novel with a carefully crafted beginning, middle and end, and people were rarely, hardly ever thinking about only one thing at a time.

People thought of all manner of things, from their dinner to their ironing, to children at Ilvermorny or duelling club, to the far more sinister like how they despised their spouse and wondered what lie they could spin in order to sneak out to see their lover. Queenie Goldstein was privy to a thousand secrets a day, at any given time, whether she liked it or not.

Her Legilimency was a secret known only to a select few at the President’s order. More than once she’d been encouraged to become an Auror, but Queenie knew better. She saw what Aurors went through and would have none of that thank you very much. Besides, Tina was the career girl and Queenie was quite happy making coffee just the way people liked it. It meant that she could walk through any part of MACUSA unquestioned, so long as she carried a tray of steaming hot caffeine.

It also meant that whenever there was someone new, Queenie made it a habit to be as welcoming and as gracious as possible. It was amazing how a cup of hot coffee could have people relaxing their guard within a few sips.

There was someone new in the Woolworth building one uneventful Thursday morning as she was taking coffee to Ruby, who rushed into the entrance hall black robes billowing behind a tall handsome man with ginger hair and a determined frown. He thought very clearly, and only, of Director Graves.

The man in question had just stepped into the elevator, nodding to Red as the bellboy prepared to close the grate.

“Percival!”

“Theseus?” The Director’s mind was like a fortress, but no Legilimency was needed to decipher the shock on his face as he stepped out of the elevator and met the man halfway.

Theseus Scamander, Britain’s decorated War Hero and current Minister for Defence. All around her she felt the shock ripple through people’s minds as the Minister clasped the Director’s arms tightly, leaning in to bump their foreheads together. Queenie suddenly felt like she was intruding on a very intimate moment.

_You’re here, you’re safe, I thought I’d lost you, I thought I’d lost you Perce-_

The Director cleared his throat, stepping back only to gesture at the Minister to follow him into the elevator. The grate firmly pulled closed, the elevator rose up and out of the entrance hall, leaving dozens of MACUSA personnel buzzing with curiosity.

A memorandum had been dispersed an hour after his arrival, informing each faculty that the Minister for Defence was assisting with the transportation of the Dark wizard currently held in the belly of the Woolworth.

By the following day, the buzzing had not stopped, and along with the usual thoughts on dinner and ironing and children and jilted lovers, her colleagues were most fascinated by the visiting Brit. He was most certainly a curiosity, almost like a fictional character stepping out from the pages of a fantastical novel. A figure most magical Americans had only ever read about and seen his charming smile in newspapers or books. Now he was in America, whole and real and every bit as charming, as debonair as his pictures. She could see the traits he shared with Newt- the burnished ginger hair, the cinnamon dusting of freckles, the stormy green eyes, but where the younger Scamander was tall and lean, the elder was a smidge shorter and stockier.

He cut an impressive figure in fashionable gentlemanly attire, and Queenie always appreciated people with sartorial flair. It was very understandable, quite so, to be starstruck around him. He tended to collect a small crowd, as though people couldn't help but gravitate to him, their thoughts a flurry of attraction and admiration.

At present, Sam from the Obliviation department was trying to converse with the Brit, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of panic and gusto and tacking embellishments onto anecdotes in an attempt to impress Theseus Scamander the War Hero. 

She couldn't glean anything from the Minister other than mild, and definitely polite amusement but she decided to press a little and take just a teensy peek into his thoughts. There was the taste of chocolate and flaky pastry, and a struggle to chase a fleeting memory, the name of a bakery Perce mentioned, Perce not Percival he called him Perce not Percy, and there was a kiss, he thought of a kiss that tasted faintly of coffee and the scrape of stubble against his palms, and a shadow, a little black flame, and chocolate pastry what was it called what was the name of the bakery? Started with a 'K' some sort of European, Slavic name-

Queenie found herself smiling as she set the coffee tray by Cecily's desk, before walking just within his line of sight.

_Kowalski's Quality Baked Goods._

She felt his mind close off to her, not like a door slammed in her face but more like being politely ushered outside. Theseus turned his head slightly, catching her eyes briefly before giving her a wink.

_Miss Goldstein, I presume?_

A giggle bubbled up from her, and her smile broadened.

"It has been very interesting talking to you, Sam," Theseus held out his hand for the Obliviator to shake, "and it's clear you play an important part in Magical Law Enforcement. Keep up the good work. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Leaving Sam to stammer in gratitude, Theseus offered Queenie the crook of his arm.

"Lead the way, Miss Goldstein." 

Queenie could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on her as she slipped her arm through the loop of his, and it was with a pinch of devilish mischief that tipped her chin up airily as she strode out of the Woolworth building at the arm of a handsome beau.

* * *

Down on Rivington Street was a tiny bakery run by a No-Maj named Jacob Kowalski. Despite being squeezed between two towering buildings, easily missed, people queued up eagerly, impatiently, to get inside. The smell of freshly baked goods permeated the chilly January air and Theseus felt a smile pull at his lips.

His companion, the sunny blonde Legilimens, fussed over her appearance smoothing non-existent creases from her pink velour coat and adjusting the beret atop her curls. Newt's letter had been thrice as long, the longest letter he'd ever received from his little brother since the day he ran away to join the war effort on the Eastern Front. Usually his younger sibling downplayed the details of his adventures, choosing instead to draw little pictures and describe the creatures he'd found, helped, and smuggled. However, the letter he received mid December had come in a fat envelope near bursting at the seams and it took the entirety of a lunchbreak to read it. 

A scuffle at the bank, a loose Niffler, a muggle, a Murtlap, an Occamy, a Demiguise, an Auror, _the_ Director of Magical Security- _his_ Percival Graves, a Legilimens, Gellert Grindelwald, and an actual living breathing Obscurial that wasn't a child.

It felt more like a fantastical tale than something that happened to Newt, that Newt lived through, fought through, and there had been a small paragraph where Newt scribbled  _he didn't recognise me I thought he'd remember me from when he spent winter with us at Godric's Hollow. He wasn't kind. He called the Obscurus 'useless' outside of its host. He wasn't Percival._

That it was his baby brother, his Newt, who recognised the difference simultaneously filled him with both pride and anger. How could they not notice? 

_Misses Porpentina and Queenie Goldstein are a peculiar pair, much like you and I, Theseus, different as an Occamy and a Demiguise but they exist in easy cordial harmony the way we do. Careful around Miss Queenie, I have yet to meet a more skilled Legilimens than she though she herself wears her heart on her sleeve. There's a muggle- a No Maj as the Americans call them, named Jacob Kowalski, I gave him the Occamy shells to open his bakery, and she loves him Thes but they have a backwards law that won't let them interact much less marry. Can you imagine such a stupid law? Neither of us would exist if mother and father had to follow such a law. Careful around Miss Queenie, Thes, careful that she means well but will find hurtful hidden memories in your depths._

"Well here we are Minister Scamander." Queenie announced, seemingly finished with her nervous preening. "What you're thinking of is a  _rugelach_ , a chocolate filled pastry, and Mr Kowalski makes the best in all of New York."

_I used the venom of the Swooping Evil and Frank to create an obliviative thunderstorm and along with most of Lower Manhattan Jacob lost all his memories of our adventures, and of Miss Goldstein. I don't think it's too much for me to hope the effects are temporary, that somehow her fondness and kindness remain embedded in a part him untouched by forgetful rain._

"Thank you Miss Goldstein." Theseus offered a smile as they joined the queue. As they neared the shop entrance, Theseus admired the baked displays in the window. His brows rose in surprise as he recognised a few of the creations, creatures he'd met in Newt's entirely illegal suitcase that were definitely not something an obliviated muggle would recall. Erumpents of puff pastry stood on a tier below swirled brioche Occamies, and perched above a level of Demiguises iced in white were plump little pastry Nifflers.

Beside him Queenie Goldstein watched his reaction carefully, as though gauging what her next actions were to be, but Theseus could only laugh softly. _A part of him untouched by forgetful rain._

"Good morning Miss Goldstein." The muggle was a portly fellow with a groomed moustache and a jovial smile that reached his eyes.

"Good morning Mr Kowalski." Queenie returned the greeting with a dazzling smile of her own, and Theseus could see the fondness, the kindness Newt spoke of in his letter. "This is Minister Theseus Scamander, visiting from London."

"How do you do?" Theseus offered his hand to shake. Jacob took it, his grip firm as his expression widened with surprise.

"Scamander? Newt's brother?" 

He had never been asked that before, had never been referred to as Newt's brother, and Theseus gave a bright laugh.

"Yes Mr Kowalski, I am indeed Newt's brother." He felt pride stir in his chest. Perhaps there were some things too fantastical to succumb to obliviation. Perhaps the heart was stronger than the mind. "I will have one of your _rugelach_ pastries and one of the Nifflers, if you please."

The Niffler had eyes made of raisins, and a pouch of coloured sugar sweets made to look like twinkling jewels and coins. Delightful, Theseus admired, utterly delightful. He dug in his coat pocket for his wallet, only belatedly realising all he carried were British muggle pound notes and wizarding galleons. 

"Oh this is disgraceful, I apologise, I only arrived in New York yesterday I only have British currency with me." Theseus sighed, disappointed with himself for forgetting such a simple thing. He'd been so caught up in his worry for his friend he'd forgotten a crucial part of travel etiquette. "If you'd mind these for but a moment I'll pop down to the bank and have my money exchanged in a jiffy."

"No, I've got it." Queenie interjected, placing coins on the counter as Jacob opened his mouth. "It's on me, Minister."

"Miss Goldstein, I couldn't possibly-"

"I'll make you a deal." There was something mischievous sparkling in her eyes as she took the little paper bags. "Instead of paying me back, how about you tell me what's the little shadow Director Graves is hiding in his office?"

 

 

* * *

 

[[Theseus Scamander fancast](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/post/159472044135/cutiemcgraw)]

(find me on [tumblr](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com/))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic timeline:  
> 31st October 1926 - Graves attacked by Grindelwald  
> 7th December 1926 - Grindelwald revealed and detained  
> 10th December 1926 - Graves found  
> 20th December 1926 - Graves discharged from St Caia’s House of Healing  
> 4th of January 1927 - A spot of black in Graves’ vision  
> 13th of January 1927 - Theseus Scamander arrives in New York


End file.
